Alice out of wonderland
by Indredi
Summary: Alice's story and the clues to her past. Asylums have documents, what truths will they reveal? How did Alice go from being a blank slate to the vibrant, loving, fashion-obsessed vampire we know and love? Please R&R- a lot of research went into this one!
1. Capture and Release

Author's note:

So I know Alice's story has been done before, but I just haven't been satisfied with any that I've read so far, so decided to do my own! I'm going to alternate between documents from the asylum that Mary Alice Brandon was committed to, and Alice's POV starting with when she wakes up. Hopefully there will be some answers in there as to why she can't remember anything… So each chapter will be two different dates, hope it isn't too confusing.

I'm messing with SM's timeline by 20 years to better fit medical technology, and leave a little less time for her to be wandering around aimlessly looking for Jasper. Apologies! See below the adjusted timeline, with SM's original dates (courtesy of the Lexicon) in bold.

1921 (**1901**) Mary Alice Brandon born in Biloxi, Mississippi

1940 (**1920**) Alice changed into a vampire by a worker at the mental asylum.

**1948 **Alice finds Jasper and they become companions.

**1950 **Alice and Jasper find Carlisle and join his family.

Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and all the characters and is wonderful for letting us play with them!

* * *

Record of Committal to Mississippi State Asylum

Date: August 4, 1935

Case #: 534 X-237

Subject: Mary Alice Brandon

Date of Birth: March 20, 1921

Consulting Doctor: Dr. Stephen Patton

Referred by: Dr. Robert Goers, Biloxi General Hospital

Notes:

Mary Alice Brandon is outwardly a sweet, vivacious young girl; however she suffers from delusions, episodes of a catatonic state, and violent outbursts.

The family physician, Dr. Goers, states that he began treating Miss Brandon for her "spells" when she was as young as 5 years old, though the girl claims her "visions" began much earlier. In the early years Dr. Goers observed several instances of the patient becoming completely unresponsive to outward stimuli, including noises, touch, bright lights and even pain. These episodes lasted anywhere from a few seconds to a minute. Each one ended with a different reaction, from laughter to terrified screams. Dr. Goers used a mixture of sedatives of various strengths to attempt to control the outbursts, however reports that keeping her in a drugged state did not diminish the number or intensity of the episodes.

Miss Brandon claims that her episodes are "visions" and recounts humorous, damning, and occasionally terrifying stories relating to her family and acquaintances. Though when pressed she admits they are incomplete and "hazy."

Dr. Goers describes Miss Brandon's "visions" as "uncannily accurate"; however this can easily be explained by the girl's observant nature and clearly highly strung imagination. Recently her "visions" have centered on a figure that terrifies her and has resulted in increased paranoia and emotional outbursts. She begs her parents to save her from this imaginary villain, whom she describes as having bright red eyes, "like the devil". Her delusions have recently escalated to occurring outside of her episodes, as she claims to have seen this figure in the Brandon home in the middle of the afternoon.

In another century she would have been burned as a witch. Indeed, Mrs. Brandon believes her daughter to be possessed, and has arranged for numerous (unsuccessful) exorcisms. Mr. Brandon is not so inclined, though fears for Miss Brandon's influence on her younger sister, especially as the episodes has increased dramatically in the last two years. Luckily in this age of advanced scientific reasoning, we recognize her "visions" for what they are: manifestations of a mind severely troubled by Paranoid Schizophrenia. There are also many advanced treatments available to us now, including electroshock therapy, a specialty of this hospital.

It is the opinion of this doctor and the committee, that Mary Alice Brandon be committed full term to the Mississippi State Asylum to undergo treatment. With concentrated efforts using the best science available to us, it is the opinion of this Doctor that she may be returned to her family in a reasonable amount of time, completely cured of her affliction.

Signed:

Dr. Stephan Patton

Approved by the committee: August 7, 1935

Date of Commitment: August 9, 1935

_______________________________________________________________________________

1940

Gold eyes, halo of yellow hair, pale skin, sweet smile.

That was the first thing I saw. Not the first thing after waking up or the first thing on arriving to a new place. The first thing period. I have no memories before that face. I didn't even see the rest of him, just his face. When I opened my eyes I could still see him in my mind's eye. Every detail perfectly etched in my memory. Although, since it was the ONLY thing in my memory, I suppose that isn't too farfetched.

I looked around. I was in a dark, musty place, though I could see clearly enough. It wasn't precisely a cave, two of the walls appeared to be hewn out of solid rock but the other two were cement. A door stood partially open in one of them. I was lying on a large crate in the center of the room, the only furniture there. I sat up to get a better look and the thin smock I was wearing fell off my shoulders. It was torn and covered in blood, though I couldn't see a scratch on my own skin. The smock was sticky and uncomfortable, so I pulled it off. As I balled it up to throw away, something caught my eye. Block letters on a square that was miraculously whole and blood free. "Y ALICE BR"

_Alice_

It felt right. My name? For the first time I realized it seemed, well, odd, that I didn't have any memories. Except the face, of course… I couldn't forget the face.

I opened my mouth to try out the word, but nothing came out… my lungs were empty. I wasn't breathing. I cautiously sucked in a lungful of air, testing my body. I was completely unprepared for the feeling that came over me. Burning fire raced down my throat. I clutched the bloody smock to my face and breathed in, my eyes rolling back into my head. THAT was what I needed. I leapt to my feet, and in a few strides was out the door.

The door opened into a hallway lined with identical nondescript doors. I closed my eyes and sniffed the air. _There!_ It was very faint, but the delicious scent called me from the right hand side of the corridor. I rushed down it, dropping the ragged smock. The scent grew stronger as I got closer to one of the nondescript doors. I tried the handle, but it was locked. Frustrated, I yanked on it, and to my surprise the entire door came off its hinges. I stared at my hand. The handle was mangled in my fist. I lifted the huge metal door as if it were nothing more than paper and tossed down the hallway. I watched it skitter and spark until it came to rest against the end wall of the corridor.

A noise brought my attention back to the room in front of me. A woman, her face lined and hair white as snow lay in a cot.

"Who's there!?" She asked in a quavery voice. "I can't see you, please turn on a light!" I realized that there was a bulb overhead that was not on, though I could see clearly enough. I could see a switch in the hallway and I flipped it. The bulb came to life, buzzing loudly in my ears, throwing the whole spectrum of light on the walls. I was dazzled by the colors.

"Are you my angel?" The woman asked, and I turned my attention back to her. "Don told me my angel would come and take my pain away, take me to heaven. " She blinked at me. "You are smaller than I expected, and, oh my, you aren't clothed!" She clutched a thin blanket to her chest momentarily then lowered it. "Well, I guess I can't be choosy, now can I? You certainly are pretty enough to be an angel. Please take my pain away…" she gave a little gasp. "I've been hurting for so long."

I opened my mouth to say something, though I didn't really know what to say… Was I an angel? What was I? I inhaled to speak but any thought of what I was going to say left my head. THAT was what I was looking for. I sprang forward, ignoring her startled scream and sunk my teeth into her neck. She struggled briefly and then was still. Once she was drained dry, and the burn in my throat was tempered for the moment, I sat back. No, I was not an angel. That was for sure. I padded out of the room and down the hall, investigating more of the doors. I didn't find any more people, though I did enjoy the sound the metal made when I wrenched each door off its hinges. One of the doors led to a large bathroom. I turned the tap on the sink and splashed water on my face, washing away the remains of the blood. When I looked up I found myself staring into a pair of red eyes. I froze and experienced fear for the first time. It took a second before I realized it was a mirror. I couldn't see much of myself in it because it was too high, and it was dirty and smudged, but I gazed intently at my features, trying to see if I recognized anything.

I had flawless pale skin, delicate features and short black hair. I ran my hand over the hair, it was silky and soft, though it stuck up a bit in an odd way. I finished my inspection and made my way back out to the hallway. My throat was beginning to burn again, and I cautiously inhaled. I caught a whiff of that wonderful scent from under the last door on the hall and I eagerly opened it. Instead of another room, this led to a stairway. I climbed quickly. Another door led to a hallway, this one brightly lit, though still empty. I followed the scent down the hallway and through another set of doors. This time the scent hit me ten times as hard. My mouth watered in anticipation.

I was suddenly hit with an unexpected vision of myself leaping out at a large group of startled people and only being able to grab one before the rest attacked me. The vision did not end well. It was so vivid I was sure it was actually happening and was surprised when I realized I was still standing alone in the hallway, though I could now hear a large group of people moving towards me. I slipped into one of the empty rooms. Unlike the one I woke up in this one had a small bed and nightstand, a chair, dresser, and a tiny closet. Someone began to open the door and I leapt into the closet. Luckily I was quite small. The closet had several dresses and an overcoat hanging in it. The material of the dresses was lovely, soft and shimmery. Nothing like the scratchy smock that I and the old women were wearing before. I heard a man talking to a woman and I half listened to them as I silently eased a dress off its hanger and began to put it on.

"There you go Mrs. Getz. Safe and sound in your room again."

"Thank you Reginald." Mrs. Getz said, imperiously. " Tell Francis I will have poached Swan eggs for breakfast tomorrow, but not to cook them too much, last time they were quite rubbery!"

"It's Mark, Mrs. Getz, and you'll have oatmeal tomorrow, same as always." Mark sounded like he said this every night.

"But I don't LIKE oatmeal! I want Swan's eggs! I didn't become the queen of Biloxi for nothing, you know!"

"Yes, Mrs. Getz. I'll let… Francis… know. Your son Rodger will be here to see you tomorrow… would you like for me to put out one of your nice dresses?" I was still not breathing, but I could hear the wet sloshing of his blood moving through his veins. A red mist crowded around the edge of my vision and I crouched, ready to spring.

"Rodger, I don't know any one called Rodger! Why would you let a stranger in?"

Mark sighed and took his hand away from the closet door.

I sprung. He didn't know what hit him. I'd broken his neck and latched on to his throat in a split second, aching for the sweet relief of my parched throat. The screams of the woman barely intruded on my consciousness. It was over far too quickly and my throat still burned in response to the scent of blood that still lay heavy on the air. I focused in on the source of the smell, the woman cowered in the corner, her screams reduced to sobs. In an instant I was standing over her. Before she could scream again I picked her up and drained her dry.

I was much neater this time, and didn't spill even a single drop on my dress. I dropped the body of the woman. I couldn't leave through the door, there was still light and movement in the hallway, and a vision showed more people coming to check on the screams. I looked around for an alternate exit and my eyes fell on something sparkly on the dresser. It was a small collection of jewelry, diamonds set in a gold necklace a bracelet, and a large engagement ring. Just as the texture of the dress called to me in the closet, I was irresistibly drawn to the beautiful sparkle of the diamonds. I slid the set into a small handbag that was also on the dresser, and tucked it under one arm.

The only escape seemed to be the small barred window. It was above my head, but it was effortless to leap up and grab the bars, leverage my feet against the wall and pry them off the window. Without a single glance behind me, I slid out into the night, the beautiful face still at the forefront of my mind.

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A/N what do you think? Sorry there is so little dialog, Alice is on her own and doesn't really have anyone to talk to yet! I have this whole story mapped out, it's only going to be 7 chapters, and actually much of it is written, so I hope to update often.

Also, I realize that some people may think that Alice is uncharacteristically controlled for a newborn. The main reason for this is that she isn't breathing, so she isn't being driven crazy by the scent and can think and follow her visions. Other vampires remember breathing from being human and it feels weird to them not to so they do it reflexively. Alice, on the other hand, is a completely blank slate and since her body doesn't require it, she doesn't do it, and doesn't know any different. So unless she is actively sniffing the air, she won't be so affected by the scent of humans.

Any more questions? PM me!


	2. Darkness and Light

A/N:

All recognizable characters are the sole property of Stephenie Meyer, no copyright infringement is intended.

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Record of Committal to Mississippi State Asylum

Date: August 10, 1936

Case #: 534 X-237

Subject: Mary Alice Brandon

Date of Birth: March 20, 1921

Consulting Doctor: Dr. Stephen Patton

Notes:

It has been one year since Miss Brandon's admittance here, and she shows no sign of improving, despite our best efforts. Repeated rounds of electroshock therapy do successfully calm her, however it does not seem to affect the number of episodes she encounters. Many of the orderlies are afraid of her, and her "visions" due to her uncanny ability to predict their futures, or tell secrets about them. I tell them it is only due to her high powers of observation and the obvious and routine nature of their work. For example, she warned a janitor to pay extra care with his mop in the south wing and that afternoon while he was cleaning he accidentally tripped one of the doctors on his rounds and the unfortunate man fell and broke his neck. The janitor, while not blamed for the incident, thereafter refused to enter the same wing as Miss Brandon, and had to be released from service.

We have been attempting a new treatment with Miss Brandon recently with some modest success: Sensory deprivation, where the patient is kept in a dark, quiet room for much of the day. Isolation from the orderlies and other people seems to calm her episodes, though she remains frightened to this day of the "man with red eyes" who she believes is after her – a symptom of her continued paranoia. I believe a new round of electroshock therapy coupled with intensified sensory deprivation may be the key to ridding her of her troubling delusions and episodes.

It is the strong opinion of this doctor that Miss Brandon continues to be a threat to herself and should remain in the care of the Mississippi State Asylum until she shows marked improvement.

Signed,

Dr. Stephen Patton

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

- 1941 -

My first year passed quite quickly. I kept away from humans, only coming in to contact with them when I needed sustenance. I was often tempted to take more, and more often… but the visions inevitably came, warning me away from excess. So I stayed away, and on the move.

I didn't just move out of necessity to feed and stay hidden, something was driving me. A demon rode my back, a demon with blonde hair and golden eyes. Although I had trouble thinking of him as a demon, more like an angel. Either way, I was forced to keep moving, always moving, searching.

I felt completely empty.

I kept being drawn to bright lights and activity. I could see just as clearly in the dark still woods as I could midday in an open field, but something didn't sit right with me with being alone in the dark. As the year progressed I found myself being drawn to human habitation, not just for the sustenance of blood, but because of the activity and energy inherent in human activities. I loved the bright colors of the clothing, the chatter of voices and the sweet sound of laughter. I found I could find more control as time went on, and could spend longer in the presence of humans without having to feed.

One day, or rather night, I found myself on the outskirts of a big city. The lights from the skyline sparkled in the distance, and I could hear the bustle of humanity moving through its streets. I followed the sounds until I was in the middle of it all, a square in the very heart of the city.

It was dazzling! Every color I'd ever seen and more that I hadn't, flashing and blinking in a cacophony of light. I spun in a circle and felt the strangest sensation building within me. A laugh burst from my lips. I clapped my hand over my mouth, surprised, but I couldn't stop the grin spreading across my face. I threw back my head and let out a peal of laughter as I twirled around again.

Suddenly a hand grabbed my arm, stopping me mid spin. I turned, snarling to confront my attacker but was stunned to find myself staring into a pair of ruby red eyes. It was a woman, considerably taller than me, with wavy brown hair that fell to her shoulders. She wore a white dress with a wide red belt, red shoes and a wide brimmed red hat. She was spectacular. I felt my mouth drop open.

"What are you DOING?" she hissed at me. When I didn't answer she shook me slightly. "You are bringing too much attention to yourself. Do you WANT the Volturi to come down on this city?" I looked at her blankly. I had no idea what she was talking about. Until this time I thought I was alone in this world, but here was another. Eyes as red as mine, without the slightest scent of humanity about her person, just a hint of jasmine and honeysuckle. She rolled her eyes and huffed impatiently. I looked at her in amazement. She was acting so, well, human!

"Come with me." She ordered and dragged me away from the square. I followed willingly enough, but as we passed the plate glass window of a storefront I stopped dead, breaking her grasp. I could see all of myself for the first time and I stared in shock. My short hair was matted and wild. The dress that I had put on nearly a year ago was frayed and torn in places and very dirty. My skin was filthy and I was barefoot. I slowly lifted a hand to my face, watching as my doppelganger followed my every move. I cocked my head and was suddenly struck with a forceful vision of myself wearing a gorgeous deep purple dress. It was knee length with long sleeves and a high neck. It was gathered with sown-in pleats starting at the neck which wrapped their way around the bust, hugging my curves to end at my right hip, where they opened up, filling out the skirt. A diamond clasp held the dress together at the neck. The vision expanded slightly and I saw the red-eyed woman standing next to me, nodding in approval. The vision faded and I spun towards the woman, clapping my hands together in delight. The woman actually looked a bit frightened. "What ARE you?" She hissed. I shrugged, still delighted with my vision. "Never mind, we have to get you out of here before more people start to notice." She grabbed my arm again and led me quickly down the street, though not nearly as quickly as I could have gone on my own. Was she slow? It dawned on me then; she was trying to look human. "I've worked too hard to be able to live in the city like this to have you ruin it for me." She muttered as we walked, though I could hear her clearly.

She led me into a dimly lit back alley and up a metal fire escape to a small room. There was no light in the room at all, but of course it didn't bother either of us. " Now, do you want to tell me what you were doing making a spectacle of yourself in the middle of Times Square?" She asked sharply. I just shrugged again. I hadn't noticed it against all the distractions of the square, but her voice was smooth and melodious. "Can you even speak? Just my luck to find the first dumb vampire in history." She grumbled.

"Vampire?" I asked. My own voice startled me. It too was pure and sweet, but more like the tinkling of bells to her soothing harp. The word made little sense to me.

"Yes, you little git, vampire. As in what you and I both are, though I'm starting to wonder about you." She eyed me carefully. "what do you remember of before?"

"Before what?" I asked, confused again.

"Before you were turned. I know the memories are usually quite weak, but do you remember who turned you? A man or woman, like us, with red eyes?"

"Turned?" She rolled her eyes, but before she could speak again I cut her off. "The first thing I remember is …" I almost said "The face" but something stopped me. "A dark room with no windows. It was on a hallway with locked doors. Behind one of the doors was a woman." I paused. "She called me an angel." I paused again, remembering, "She tasted sweet. I know what an angel is, but I don't know what a vampire is." I looked at her. "I know I'm not an angel."

She looked at me quizzically. "No, you're not. You are a vampire. A creature of darkness who must drink the blood of mortal humans to survive. You are immortal and unchanging." She quirked an eyebrow. "Stuck forever with that unfortunate hair cut. What did they do, use pruning shears?" She looked at me sharply. "You don't remember the change, the pain?"

"No." I said simply.

"Lucky." She said quietly and was lost to her own thoughts.

"Why did you take me off the street?" I asked, breaking the silence, hoping to keep her talking. I was reveling in this conversation, this connection.

"The number one rule for all vampires is: Keep the Secret. You must never let humans know of our existence; your life depends on this."

Several questions popped into my head at once. "Who sets the rules? Life? I thought you said I was immortal? Then why do you live here?" I babbled out, one thought tripping over the next. I only stopped because the air I was holding in my lungs ran out.

She looked at me in surprise. "Even for a vampire you talk fast! One at a time, and slower, please."

I took a breath and started over. "Who sets the rules?"

"The Volturi, a coven of extremely old vampires based in Italy."

"Who enforces them?"

"The Volturi's guard, the most elite of all vampires, each with a special… talent. If you break the rules they will track you down and tear you limb from limb, burning the remains. And they wouldn't just stop there. They would destroy any other vampires unlucky enough to be in the area, as a lesson to the rest of us not to break the rules." She shuddered. "I LIKE New York. There is art, and fashion, and an endless supply of my men to please me in every way. Men who no one notices go missing." I suddenly got a vision of her, naked body tangled in satin sheets, sinking her teeth into a man's neck as he arched his back and gasped in release. The vision faded, but I was left with an odd feeling in the pit of my stomach. She was staring at me again. "What is wrong with you?"

I shrugged. "I just saw you, biting a man. You were both naked."

"You saw me?"

"I see things, sometimes, about the future."

"And they always come true?"

I shrugged again. "Generally, though they are usually about me. If I see myself getting into trouble I can change what I am doing and avoid it. This is the first time I've had a vision about someone else."

She quirked an eyebrow. "Describe the man for me."

"Taller than you, but not by much, brawny build, curly bright red hair, cut short. His eyes were closed, so I can't tell you what color."

She sighed. "Charles. The man I was SUPPPOSED to meet tonight. Before I ran into you that is." She gave me a little glare.

"Well, there was daylight coming through the window in the vision, so maybe you'll see him tomorrow?" I suggested.

"hmm… intriguing." She suddenly got a sly look across her face. "Tell me, can you force the visions to occur?" I shrugged. She walked to a table set against a wall and picked up a deck of cards. "Try this. What card will I reveal when I cut the deck down the middle?"

I thought about it briefly. The image of the six of clubs flicked across my mind. "Six of clubs." I told her confidently. She split the deck and held it up for me to see. She smiled triumphantly, "The six of clubs it is!" She pursed her lips. "This could be interesting." She eyed me. "You are a bit small, but I think we can work something out."

"Work what out?"

"Why, getting you cleaned up and out of that filthy rag you are wearing!"

"Why are you doing this for me?" I was growing a bit suspicious, and I eyed the window.

"I'm not doing this for you, I'm doing it for me… can't be drawing attention to you, now, can we? Both of us would suffer. Also, I think I can make use of you." I didn't like the sound of that at all, but was loathe to leave after so much time alone. The empty feeling was still there, but it was marginally buffered by the company and conversation. "I'm Sonya, by the way."

"Alice."

"Well, Alice, why don't we find something for you to wear?" She pulled a silk screen aside to reveal several racks of clothing. She pulled a simple dress off a hanger and held it up to me. On her it would probably be knee length, on me it was a little lower than mid calf. It was a simple cotton material, nothing as fine as what she was wearing, or what I saw in my vision I sighed but held out my hand for it. "Now wait, Alice, we can't have you putting on clean clothes while still so dirty, can we? Unfortunately I'm all out of water up here." She gestured at an empty bowl and pitcher on the table. "There is a public bath down the street, but it costs money…. You don't have any money, do you Alice?" She looked at me speculatively.

I shook my head. Money was one of those things. I knew what it was, without ever having seen it. It was frustrating having no memory. She looked disappointed. "Anything else of value?" I thought for a second and then opened the handbag I had tied around my waist with a bit of string. I held out the ring.

"Will this do?" Her eyes lit up.

"Just barely, but it will do." She agreed, barely able to contain her excitement. I knew I was being played, but I was interested to see where this was headed. I felt with my visions to guide me, I could stay out of too much trouble. She snatched up the ring and looked it over carefully before secreting it away in her own handbag. She gave me a pair of heeled shoes, which were much too big, but she stuffed cotton into the toes. It would have been awkward and uncomfortable except I couldn't feel any pain, and my balance kept me from falling on my face. Carrying the dress, she led the way back out the window and I followed her down the street. "You're lucky, you know." She said, conversationally as we walked. "These baths were extremely popular at the turn of the century, but there aren't too many left now."

We came to a large brick building with "Public Baths" written across the front. She paused before the door. "Hold your breath." She warned. I nodded and stopped breathing. We went in, surprising the sleepy clerk behind the desk. He shied away from Sonya's red eyes, but accepted her pennies and handed her two rough pieces of sack cloth. We walked through the door marked "Women" and into a large changing area. I stripped and looked around for what to do with the dress and my bag.

"Here, we'll throw that horrid thing away. And don't worry; I'll watch your bag for you, though we'll have to replace this as soon as possible too." She wrinkled her nose as she took the dress and bag from me. "I'm surprised! This dress is silk!" She exclaimed. She tsked. "We'll have to teach you how to take proper care of clothes." She led me into the bathing area, a series of small pools of water. "There is a bigger pool for the men, where they all jump in together, but the ladies section is more proper." She told me. She hadn't gotten undressed, and sat herself primly on one of the long benches along the wall.

I stepped into the water. It was cold, but it didn't bother me. She kicked a rough chunk of soap someone had left behind to me, and I used it to scrub all over. I had been dirty for so long, I now knew how good it felt to be clean again. She handed me the pieces of sack cloth to dry off with and looked me over critically. "Well, there isn't much we can do about your hair, but the rest of you will do." She dropped the dress over my head and sighed. "I hope you have more where that little bauble came from, because we are going to have to go shopping for something that fits you better!" Shop? Something about that word made my insides tingle… kind of like the feeling I got during the vision of Sonya and her man. Not quite, but close.

"Look, Sonya. I might not have any memories, or know as much as you about the ways of the human world, but I do know that the ring I gave you is worth a lot more than the few pennies it took to get in here." I took a breath and fought back the burn that lit in my throat from the human sitting in the entryway. "I do have more, as you know… I saw a vision of you going through the purse when I handed it to you. You can have it all if you just take me shopping." She looked startled, then laughed.

"Well Alice, it is a bit late tonight, but if it is cloudy tomorrow I will take you shopping to your little dead heart's content! Tonight, I have other plans for us. Come with me!"

She led me out to a busier street and hailed a cab. She explained her plan on the drive. "There is a gentleman's club that I frequent in Uptown. I am well known there, so I don't bother any of the usual patrons, but it is perfect for snatching up the men who are just passing through town, and have a few bills in their pockets to make it worth my while. There is a back room for gambling, and between my charms and your visions, we can make a killing!" She giggled, "In perhaps more ways than one."

"In exchange for your 'baubles' I will loan you fifty dollars. Don't win every time, or they'll know you're cheating, and throw me a bone every now and then too. Got it?" She looked me in the eye. I nodded. "Good. One last thing." She reached into her purse and pulled out a pair of blue tinted glasses. "These will help keep your eyes from being too conspicuous, luckily I always have an extra pair." The cab stopped and we stepped out on the curb. There were several people making their way up into the well lit club, and I cautiously breathed in. The fire reignited in my throat and I let out an involuntary growl.

"I don't think I can do this," I told Sonya. She looked at me sharply, then gripped my arm as I took a step forward towards the man who had just brushed past us. She quickly scanned the area and led me down the street. We soon left the brightly lit areas and she told me to wait in an alleyway. I concentrated hard on not running back to the crowded club. Within a few minutes I heard giggling and sloppy, heavy footfalls.

"Come on, right this way… you know you want it." Sonya's voice was alluring, I found myself wanting to follow it. She led a very drunk man into the alleyway. He was most assuredly not one of the patrons of the club, he was unwashed and wearing threadbare clothing.

"Heh, heh… two of you?" he asked, swaying back and forth. I sniffed and even though his alcoholic stench and putrid breath were almost overwhelming, there was still the sweet scent of blood underneath it all. I leapt, cutting off his startled "Hey!" with my teeth. When I was done, Sonya helped me drag him back a bit further in the alley. She dropped the bottle she had been teasing him with at his side and briefly brushed off any possible debris that might have stuck to her dress.

"There now, feel better?" She asked me, as she carefully straightened my dress. She laughed again. "I love this town! Where else can you just leave a body in an alley way and no one will lift an eyebrow? They won't even notice he's missing blood! And no one will notice him missing, there are thousands like him in this city." She brushed a speck of dirt off my shoulder. "Actually it is too easy… and not nearly as much fun as playing with my men!"

She led the way back to the club and we entered without a fuss.

The night actually turned out to be a lot of fun for me. I lost just often enough not to raise suspicion, but won a substantial amount of money. Sonya gambled only a little, preferring to be the center of attention of her little flock of men, accepting little "gifts" of chips from them, as well as drinks that she never drank. Men approached me as well, but it made me uncomfortable. I supposed I was attractive, but it didn't matter to me in the slightest. None of these men matched the face in my mind, and held no interest for me. While I enjoyed the buzz of activity in the club and the feeling I got every time I won, I still had that empty feeling inside, and my demon, or angel, was telling me to get out of town. I decided that after shopping I would leave New York. I had learned a lot in a very few hours, not the least of which was that I could handle being around humans for a length of time, and that I rather enjoyed pretending to be one of them.

We left the club just as dawn was breaking, and walked slowly back down town, enjoying the cloudy morning. It was late summer, and the trees were starting to turn as we walked through the park. Sonya regaled me with stories of her "conquests" as we walked, and I laughed and enjoyed them all. She was only about 50 years old at the time, young in Vampire years, and had been the mistress of a high powered man in Boston. Her love of clothes, money, and men, followed her into her vampire life. She was turned by a 500 year old Vampire, who had once been a courtesan in Venice. The Succubus saw something of herself in the young Swedish immigrant and thought she would make a good companion. However, the older Vampire found she did not have the patience to stay away from humanity for the year it took for her young apprentice to get over the worst of the blood lust, and wandered back to civilization and her men. Sonya had looked for her maker for a while before settling down in New York, happy enough on her own.

"I don't know why I'm telling you all this." Sonya confided in me. "But it does feel good to talk. I'm glad I met you, Alice."

"And I you, Sonya. Thank you." I said sincerely. By that time the shops were opening and she held the door to the first one wide for me, a gleam in her eyes.

"Shopping" was everything the word promised and more. Every pair of shoes I tried on, every handbag I picked up, gave me that tingle in my stomach. I wanted them all, but realized that if I was going to move on, I couldn't carry everything. I sadly limited myself to two pairs of shoes, three pairs of silk stockings, and a new bag large enough to carry them in. We looked through several dress shops, and I quickly replaced Sonya's old brown dress with a simple blue dress made of a new fabric called "Rayon" that Sonya was crazy over. She found a dress she claimed was the spitting image of one someone named "Mary Astor" wore in "the Maltese Falcon" which was apparently a "movie," a form of entertainment I promised myself to explore. Sonya "borrowed" money from me to purchase it, since she had already spent her winnings, claiming I didn't help her often enough. I didn't care, I had plenty.

But I didn't see anything that matched my vision of the purple dress. For the first time I actively tried to bring back a vision. It came readily enough, and this time I tried to expand it, to see if there was anything that could give me a clue to the location. I concentrated very hard and willed the image forward, and watched as Sonya and I left the store, a plain storefront with a small plaque by the door with the word: "Mimi's". "Alice, Alice!" I came to and found Sonya waving a hand in front of my face. "What did you see?!" She asked.

"We have to go to Mimi's!" I told her. "Where is it?" I was almost frantic.

"Mimi's? How do you know about that? Oh never mind, your vision… we can't just waltz into Mimi's, you know… it is only the most fashionable boutique in all of New York, and you have to make an appointment, usually a month in advanced. Mimi gets all her designs from Paris… smuggled out because of the war, you know, and has a small army of highly skilled seamstresses to do them up for her."

"Sonya, I simply HAVE to go there… you know where it is, right?" She nodded, a little frightened by my intensity. "Take me there!" She agreed, a bit reluctantly, but led the way. As we walked I tried hard to find a vision that would help me gain entrance, and more importantly, get that dress! Unfortunately all the blanking out was making walking difficult, so Sonya was forced to grab my arm and steer me forward.

As we neared the shop, I started to panic, nothing showed how I got in, but the fact that I was in, and wearing the dress, stayed the same. At the last second I had it. I gasped in relief, then walked boldly forward and knocked on the door, a specific pattern of three short knocks, a pause, four short knocks, a pause, and then one short knock. The door opened and a young woman looked quizzically out. "You aren't Miss Cook!"

"Susan, what is going on? It is much too early for Mademoiselle Cook." We heard the heavy French accent near the door. Suddenly it was thrown all the way open and a very large woman was staring down at us. She had been an opera singer, and it showed. She towered over Sonya and I found myself looking at her naval from the step below the door. Not only did she have size, but she had _presence_. She wore a floor length silk gown in a slightly off-white color, elbow length gloves and a fur stole graced her shoulders. A large emerald winked at her neck, and a single peacock feather rose from a matching comb in her elaborately styled hair. A cigarette, held at the end of a nearly foot long ivory holder drifted lazy curls of blue smoke around her head. She looked as if she was dressed for an evening out, even though it was only early afternoon.

She sniffed down at us. "How did you get Mademoiselle Cook's knock? I warned the little git not to tell!"

She was intimidating… or would be to a human. I, on the other hand, was no human, and I turned on my new found vampire charm – obtained from close study of Sonya in the gambling hall – full force.

"Madame Mimi, what matters is that I am visiting out of town, I have limited amounts of time and OBSCENE amounts of money to spend. I asked my friend where the BEST place in town was to obtain the latest fashions, and she steered me to you." She narrowed her eyes and seemed about to say something, but I knew how to shut her up. "Miss Cook gave me the instructions and a note for you; let me see where I put it." I pretended to fumble with my purse, and let it fall open, giving her a clear view of the large role of cash. Her mouth closed with a click, and a calculating look grew in her eyes.

"This is somewhat unorthodox, I must say, but if, as you say, you only have limited time here… Come in, come in." She waved her cigarette holder, causing the thin tendril of smoke to dissolve into a small blue cloud, and stood aside for us to pass. "Tell the girls to get ready. The fall line." She whispered to the girl who was still standing by the door. She ducked her head and scurried off. "Come this way." She told us. She led us into a large parlor with comfortable chairs set in a u-shape at one end. I was fascinated by the furnishings and window dressings, and more than happy to let Sonya take over from me. She introduced us as Sonya Lutz and Alice Smith, and proceeded to apologize for our unorthodox entry and praise the French woman for her unparalleled style and taste. Madame Mimi ate it up. Sonya exuded the same attractiveness as I felt the previous night in the alleyway. I could never match that, but I did listen in to learn more about interacting with humans. We were offered tea, which Sonya accepted. I mimicked her miming sipping, but my stomach revolted the thought of even trying to get some past my lips.

Finally we got down to business. A line of girls, each wearing a different outfit, came in and walked back and forth in the U of chairs, modeling the clothes.

It was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

I found myself asking Mimi a string of questions, about cut, and color, and stitching, and trim, and length, and style. All of which she gladly answered. "I'm pleased to find a kindred spirit." She told me during one of my few pauses. "I see you too have the passion for fine clothing, as do I. Come, I have something special to show you." She led the way out of the parlor, and I followed eagerly behind.

We entered a room that was filled with clothes. All those beautiful fabrics and colors! I felt myself go weak at the knees, and my stomach was clenched tight. This was better than any of the other shops we had been in before. "Here," she said, pulling aside a drape. "This was made for Lady Hutton, based on her own seamstress's specifications. Apparently the woman has been eating like a pig since she arrived in New York since she would never fit into this now. It is one of a kind, based on a design smuggled out of Paris, just last week." I barely heard her… it was the dress in the vision, even more lovely in person. I slowly walked forward, lifting my hand as if in a trance, to barely brush the fabric.

"It's perfect." I whispered. She smiled, like a cat that had just caught a mouse.

"Of course, it is quite a bit more expensive, with the work and diamond clasp, but well worth it, non?" She was stroking the fabric herself. I fought with myself not to jump on her and rip her throat out. "But I think it will fit you perfectly. As you can see with the detail work, this dress can only be made individually, if it were taken in you would ruin the design. Come," she snapped her fingers, and two girls jumped forward to carefully remove it from the manikin. They led me into an adjacent changing room and helped me disrobe and slip it on. It fit like a glove. I admired myself in the mirror, spinning slowly. My hair was not at all a popular length, but I held my chin high and found I liked it just the way it was. I stepped out of the dressing room to the appreciative coos from Mimi and Sonya.

"Madame Mimi? I believe you have just made a sale." I told her, and her grin spread to that of a cat that has just _eaten_ the mouse, and her eyes sparkled.

I made Mimi a very happy woman that day. I bought the dress (of course) as well as one other, and a few accessories including hair combs and hats smuggled out of France. All of it was obscenely expensive, which even I realized with my limited experience with money, but I didn't care. After talking with Sonya, I had already decided to visit a few race tracks to win back everything I spent. All of my purchases did not fit in the bag I bought, but I didn't care either. I was finished with living in the woods. Sonya had opened my eyes to new possibilities in my life. I still felt the incessant need to move, to find whatever it was I was looking for, but I could do it in cities and towns.

I bid Sonya farewell once we left Mimi's. She seemed upset, but I knew she was not cut out to be with someone else. She was self sufficient. "I'm glad I met you, Alice." She told me quietly as I climbed into a cab. "I never expected to enjoy the company of another vampire, especially a female!"

I laughed. "And I am very grateful you found me! You have taught me much, Sonya. Oh, and if you return to Time Square in the next half hour you will be able to pick up where I so rudely broke you off yesterday." I winked.

"Remember to be careful." She warned me and shut the door.

"Take me to Penn Station." I told the driver, and he headed off. I didn't look back, only forward.

--------------------

A/N:

This one is quite a bit longer than expected… It was just going to be a filler chapter, but it got out of hand a bit! You know how the characters are when they have a story to tell, and Alice didn't want me to skimp on her first shopping experience!

Please review; let me know what you think. I know I could stand to have a Beta, I should look into that…

I'll put a link to Alice's new dress on my profile. There's also a link to some photos of old NYC public baths, and the movie poster for the Maltese Falcon, in case you are interested.

And yes, Sonya is also a Succubus… though not as "moral" as Tanya and her sisters.


	3. Anxiety and Relief

Chapter 3: Anxiety and Relief

A/N:

_All recognizable characters are the sole property of Stephenie Meyer, no copyright infringement is intended._

* * *

Record of Committal to Mississippi State Asylum

Date: August 1, 1937

Case #: 534 X-237

Subject: Mary Alice Brandon

Date of Birth: March 20, 1921

Consulting Doctor: Dr. Stephen Patton

Notes:

This is nearing the anniversary of Miss Brandon's second year here at the Asylum, and she shows some improvement over last year, the sensory deprivation seems to lessen the number of episodes and the electroshock therapy keeps her calm. She is beginning to demonstrate signs of memory loss, an unfortunate side effect of the electroshock treatment, though a small price to pay for a peaceful soul.

The one remaining recurring "vision" that Miss Brandon experiences centers around the mysterious "man with red eyes." One of our new orderlies, a man by the name of Don Jones, suffers from Albinism, a condition where he has no pigment in his skin, hair or eyes, causing them to appear red. He is a quiet man who works with the patients who are terminally ill, showing them great care and compassion in their remaining days. I have decided to enlist his assistance with Miss Brandon, to attempt to relieve her of her fear of men with red eyes.

When Mr. Jones was first introduced to the patient she exhibited extreme terror, and had to be restrained by two orderlies. He spoke softly to her, though as per my instructions he did not come close. She soon calmed and looked at him more closely. She repeated the following phrase several times: "You're not him." Satisfied with her progress, I sent Don away, though asked if he would be willing to return for future sessions. He agreed, and I am formulating a new regimen including sessions with Don interspersed with continued electroshock therapy and sensory deprivation.

It is the opinion of this doctor that we may be on the verge of a great breakthrough with Miss Brandon, and that she should remain committed in order to continue treatment.

Signed,

Dr. Stephen Patton

* * *

**- 1942 - 1947 –**

I began paying attention to the years, and the events. Dumbo was released in October of 1941, it was the first movie I went to see.

Pearl Harbor was attacked in December.

Things changed.

I was in the middle of a country at war. The humans surrounding me switched from worrying about material things to worrying about their brothers, sons, and husbands. We became a nation of industry as thousands of jobs opened in factories. I even took part, taking a job to sew uniforms for soldiers. I couldn't help but add small details and flare to the stitching, though I doubt anyone would have noticed. I wore denim trousers, rolled up the sleeves of my shirt and wrapped my short hair in a kerchief. Rosie the Riveter I was not, but I tried to look the part.

Few commented on my red eyes, and most avoided me, but they were so desperate for help that they overlooked my quirks. I finally had to stop when another girl accidentally pierced her finger and I very nearly ripped her head off. Luckily my visions were still with me and I left right before it happened, but the scent of blood still hung heavy in the air when I returned to my post.

I owed so much to Sonya. Several months after meeting her, I met a small coven of nomadic vampires, and I realized how different she was from the majority of our species. If I had met one of the others first, I probably would have avoided cities and humanity much longer. And I would have never discovered shopping.

Shopping still made my insides feel all funny, and in a very small way it filled the emptiness. Money was never a problem. I loved gambling almost as much as shopping. I even began to gamble in the bigger game: the stock market. It was uncommon for a woman to do that, but in those days it was easy to move around undetected, and hire others to do my investment for me.

There was another problem that was much harder solved. There were much fewer "stray" men in the cities those days, men and women would be missed because every able body was pressed in service either for the military or in industry. I was having trouble keeping a low profile while still living the life I loved, shopping and interacting with humans regularly, so I was forced to move around a lot more than I would have liked. It didn't help that I needed to eat more than I had when I was living in the forest in order to keep control of myself while surrounded by the masses at the race course or in the factory.

The real breakthrough came about two years after meeting Sonya. One day I was driving across country in my newly purchased car, a Ford Super Deluxe Convertible. It was one of the last cars off the assembly line before the government shut down all passenger car production in favor of vehicles for the army, and I loved the plush interior. Suddenly a vision hit me so forcefully I swerved off the road and into a ditch.

I saw a huge man with close cropped curly black hair seated at the edge of a dirt road with his head in his hands. Another man approached slowly, he was blond and slim and my insides twitched when I saw his golden eyes. "Emmett, come home." He said quietly.

"I can't Carlisle," the big man groaned, his voice muffled by his hands. "I've let you down, I've let you all down."

"Emmett, we all make mistakes," the blond man took a step forward and reached out to touch Emmett's shoulder, but he jerked away. Carlisle sighed and squatted down at his side.

"You've never made a mistake; ROSE has never made a mistake!" He sobbed miserably.

"Emmett, we are vampires. No matter how hard we try not to, killing people is what we are meant to do. And even though Rosalie has never imbibed human blood, you know she has taken human life. Edward has hunted humans, and even Esme has slipped, more than once, I might add."

"She just smelled SO good." Emmett sighed, "I've never smelled a human like that. I went hunting last night too… caught a nice big bear." He lifted his head and my insides twitched again at the sight of his matching golden eyes. No, not matching, his eyes had red eating away at the edges of the gold. "I don't know what came over me, I just had to have her."

Carlisle sighed and put his hand out again. This time Emmett didn't shy away and Carlisle laid his hand on the big man's shoulder. They sat quietly for a few breaths. "Come home, Emmett." Carlisle said again.

"Is… Is Rose really mad at me?" The big man seemed nervous.

"Of course not. She knows how hard it is. You are still very young in our world, and have shown amazing restraint until now. Rosalie is actually very worried about you. She doesn't want you to run away."

"Thank you Carlisle." Emmett gave the blond man a small smile. "I wasn't really going to run away, I just needed a bit of time."

"I know, son."

"I promise I'll stick to animals from now on!"

"Don't make a promise you can't keep… But I appreciate you continuing to try your hardest." Carlisle came to his feet and held out a hand to Emmett. "Come on, let's not let our wives wait any more for us."

The vision faded, but I felt stunned. I had NEVER had a vision that strong before. Most of my visions were images, like photographs, some were like watching a movie, but this was like I was actually there. I could smell the pine trees and hear the quiet of that back country road… all the animals hiding from the predators in their midst. I looked around. I was surrounded by an apple orchard, not pine trees, and a river on the other side of the orchard filled the air with the sound of rushing water. I sat in my car and mulled over what I had seen.

Vampires could live on animal blood alone?

The gold eyes also gave me pause. The face that hovered in the back of my mind didn't match that of Carlisle, though at first I thought it might, with the blond hair. But the eyes. The eyes were identical.

Gold eyes would attract less attention than red in this human centric life I was leading.

Another part of this made sense to me as well. I LIKED humans. Not in the same way that Sonya liked her men, of course, but I actually enjoyed the company. And I loved the things they made, like art, and movies, and clothing. Ah, clothing. It sometimes felt… well… wrong, to be feeding on the creatures that I enjoyed interacting with.

As I sat there, car still stuck in the ditch with dusk settling around me, a light breeze picked up and mingled with the scent of early apples was something else… something that made my inner predator rumble. A small herd of deer stepped cautiously into the other end of the grove, nibbling on the orchard grass. I wouldn't know if I could do this if I didn't try, I decided. I slipped silently out of the car, kicking off my heels. The wind was still in my favor and I stood stock still amongst the trees as they drew closer.

In a lightning fast move I sprung forward. The herd was a hair too far away and they bolted, springing off in different directions. I chased after the big buck, ignoring the rest. He dodged and weaved, but my visions kept me one step ahead. I laughed out loud. This was FUN! Much better than luring a drunk into an alleyway. Finally I put on an extra burst of speed, anticipating his sudden left turn and had his neck broken and jugular to my lips before he could even complete the turn.

His blood was hot, and while nowhere near as tasty as human, it was filling. I could do this.

I wasn't sure what to do with the body, but felt a bloodless deer in the middle of a field would attract unwanted attention. I ended up dragging it out of the orchard and uprooting one of the hedges to create a burial space. I replaced the hedge, stomped down the dirt a bit and shrugged. About as good as I could do on short notice. I walked back to the car, lifted it up onto the road, wincing at the mud splashed all up the right side and a big cut up the side. I'd have to get it washed and repaired the first chance I got.

I reached into one of my bags in the back seat and pulled out a hand mirror. The sun was completely gone now, but I could still see gold infusing the edges of my red irises. I smiled.

Now that I didn't have to decimate the human population, I tried to stay longer in one place. I chose Chicago for the bright lights and long dark winter months where I didn't have to hide in my room.

I made it a year before I couldn't take it anymore.

The empty hole in me just got bigger. Shopping wouldn't fill it. Winning money at the bookies didn't fill it. The demon riding my back whispered in my ear. I was missing something. A piece of me. I had to keep looking. So I kept moving for the next few years.

I had just packed the last of my bags into the back of the Ford, now neatly patched and repainted, when the vision hit me.

It was HIM. The face. This time attached to a body. A perfect body. Tall and lanky while still muscular. He stood very straight, army officer straight, but not stiff. Predatory. He had slightly wild honey-blonde hair that glowed in the muted light. I focused in on the face. This was the first time I had a real vision about it, and there was something different.

The eyes.

It wasn't just that they were as red as any other vampires, not gold, but that they looked… I didn't know, stressed? Scared? Sad. They looked sad. The eyes looked happy in the face that hovered in my mind at all times. Actually it was more than happy… the eyes showed love. Love.

Why didn't the man in my vision have gold loving eyes?

It hit me.

Because I wasn't there. I wasn't in the vision.

Yet.

I had to find him. To make him happy. To make ME happy.

I couldn't tell where his location was, no matter how hard I tried to broaden the vision. I gave up after a short while, and let the vision fade away. I was sad to lose the image, but I felt a renewed strength within me. I had purpose. The demon on my back wasn't driving me _away_ from something, it was driving me _towards_ something. I had to keep moving, searching my visions. I had to find him. I jumped in the car and tore off. I didn't have a direction, but I had hope.

I kept up a maniacal pace for three weeks. I hit every major city in the Midwest and was torn between heading to the east or west next. I pushed at my visions as hard as I could, but was only rewarded with tiny flashes. At one point I recognized Memphis and that made up my mind. I couldn't get there before he would leave, but at least it gave me a direction. East.

He was acting like any nomadic vampire. Staying on the fringes of society, feeding on the unwary. He was never in the same place for longer than it took to catch his meal and then he was on his way. He didn't stay in places I recognized, or visited common landmarks. I cursed at him under my breath. He wasn't making this easy. Even worse, he didn't seem to have a plan of where to go next, his wanderings were aimless… making my visions almost useless.

Finally I realized my problem. HIS future wasn't set… but maybe MINE was…

I was in Boston at the time and I found an out of the way spot to park my car. I took several deep breaths, a habit I picked up from hanging around humans, and closed my eyes_. Relax_. I ordered myself.

The vision slowly came into focus, like a movie reel, though it got steadily clearer until it was the same vivid strength as the vision of Emmett and Carlisle. I could smell the stale coffee and pie, and hear the waitress taking orders from the two patrons down the counter. My legs hung over the edge of the vinyl padded stool, feet dangling above the footrest. My hands were clasped at my heart, my back to the edge of the counter. I was staring at the street through the plate glass window. I could make out the name of the place, painted in gaudy red and white trim on the window, backwards to me. "Suzie's Diner." Underneath it, in black script was painted: "Best Cheese Steaks in Philly."

There was a man out on the street. He paused at the street corner, before walking to the door. He pushed it open, causing the little bell hung above to jingle. I slid off my stool lightly to the ground.

His blonde hair framed his face, lit from the street behind like a halo of light. His red eyes, still sad, looked startled as I approached. There you are.

"I've been waiting for you for a long time." My vision self said.

The vision faded.

I shook myself as the sights and sounds of Boston gradually overcame those of the vision. I had more than a purpose now, I had a destination.

Philadelphia.


	4. Lost and Found

Chapter 4: Lost and Found

_A/N: _

_Sorry for the wait… I had a bit of a mental block on this one… but once I figured it out, I had lots of fun writing and researching it! Hope you enjoy too!_

_I want to give grateful acknowledgment to JustineLark who has been enormously helpful through this writing process._

_All recognizable characters are the sole property of Stephenie Meyer, no copyright infringement is intended._

* * *

Record of Committal to Mississippi State Asylum

Date: August 8, 1938

Case #: 534 X-237

Subject: Mary Alice Brandon

Date of Birth: March 20, 1921

Consulting Doctor: Dr. Stephen Patton

Notes:

Miss Brandon continues to experience episodes, despite all our efforts. Admittedly she is much calmer now, and hardly violent at all after each episode, however it does not bode well for her long-term recovery. The orderly, Mr. Jones, has taken a special interest in Miss Brandon and often spends time with her, which seems to calm her. As I see nothing untoward in his interactions with her, I have allowed his visits with her to continue, despite ending the official sessions with him some time ago.

A new and exciting technique for treating schizophrenia has recently been discussed in the scientific journals that I believe may be the solution to Miss Brandon's illness. It is called "frontal lobotomy" or "leucotomy". I had the honor of speaking with one of the pioneers of this technique, Dr. Walter Freeman, at a lecture in Mississippi State University. He assured me that the procedure, where a hole is drilled in the patients head, and a sharp instrument is used to destroy the frontal lobe of the brain, has an extremely high success rate of curing patients with schizophrenia as well as those with other mental disorders. In fact, he tells me that the vast majority of his patients, including those who were quite violently aggressive are able to be returned to their families in complete peace with the world after the procedure. The Freeman-Watts procedure (as it is known) requires surgery and is therefore a costly option for a state-run Asylum; however Dr. Freeman hopes to one day perfect a technique that can be performed without surgery. Until that time, I believe that Miss Brandon is an ideal subject for this treatment, and is well worth the investment. Dr. Freeman, intrigued by her case, has agreed to perform the operation pro-bono the next time he is in town, in perhaps 4 months time.

It is this doctor's opinion that Miss Brandon may need to remain in the care of the Mississippi state asylum for the remainder of her life unless we can drastically change her current mental state. In that vein, I respectfully request the funds to book an operating theater at the Biloxi General Hospital for when Dr. Freeman returns to Mississippi.

Signed,

Dr. Stephan Patton

* * *

**May, 1947- May, 1948**

One would think it only takes a few days to get from Chicago to Philadelphia by car, a week at the most.

It took a year.

A year!

A long, miserable, hateful YEAR!

Well, actually it wasn't that hateful. And it wasn't even all that miserable. But it WAS painful. Every day the hole inside of me seemed to grow, to consume me. Now that I knew what was missing and knew where to find it, every day that I wasn't with him hurt more than the last.

My only consolation was that the vision never changed… I searched for it five, ten, fifty times a day, and it never wavered.

So what dragged me away from destiny?

What else? Fashion…

I was speeding down route 30 west, not paying any attention to the road ahead of me, focusing instead on cataloging every detail of the vision. The smell of the coffee, the beads of sweat on the line cook's upper lip, the ticking of a large clock over the door, the wisps of hair escaping from the waitress's carefully pinned hair. I had just noticed that the calendar hung by the register said "May" when a new vision interrupted my careful study: Me being manhandled by a human into a police car.

What?

I snapped out of my vision, the senses of the world around me coming back into focus… the sight of the road, trees and houses flying by at rate much faster than the posted speed limit should allow; the smell of the hot rubber tires and asphalt; the feel of the bright sun through the windshield of the car; the sound of the police siren wailing behind me.

Oops.

I couldn't pull over, not with the sun as bright as it was. I was normally much more careful about traveling in the day time, but I was so desperate to fulfill the vision I hadn't even bothered to think about the weather. Luckily the top was up, but that wouldn't make too much of a difference with the morning light shining directly in the windshield.

I gunned the engine, blessing the designers who saw fit to outfit a luxurious vehicle with a motor that could run a truck. I thought I might be able to outrun him. The thought briefly crossed my mind that I could stop in an out of the way place and dispatch the officer when he approached the car, but I immediately dismissed it. Even though the man of my vision had red eyes in the diner, I did not, and I wasn't about to jeopardize the vision. Not to mention that after several years of refraining to take human life, and spending so much time with them I was also simply repulsed by the idea. I had become morally opposed to murder, like the two vampires in my vision and the rest of their coven.

As I rounded a curve I swerved to pass a motorist with much more respect for the laws of the nation than I. The left rear tire, overheated and under serviced, gave out with the increased pressure. It popped with a loud BANG! The steering wheel jerked in my hands, and even my vampire strength was unable to hold the car on the road. It hit the edge of the pavement and flipped, rolling down an embankment. I was thrown about inside the cab, my carefully packed parcels and garment bags bouncing with me like balls in a bingo spinner. I could smell it when the gas line blew, and I didn't need a vision to tell me that was serious trouble. As the car came to rest at the bottom of the embankment I used my strength to force open the door and flung myself away from the car just as it exploded in a huge fireball. I picked myself up and sped to a nearby grove of trees, sure that the policeman, his car stopped now on the road above, would see me but needing to get away from the terrifying flames. I hunkered down in the cool shadow of the trees and checked my visions; he must not have seen me as I had no indication of anyone searching the trees.

I stayed in the trees till nightfall, watching warily as my car and all my beautiful clothes burned down to nothingness. The fire truck was a long time coming, and when it did there was little they could do except stamp out the last of the flames. Men in coveralls shoveled what was left into wheelbarrows that they dumped into a truck waiting above. They made depressingly few trips back and forth before all that remained was a patch of scorched earth.

I was now car-less, and clothes-less other than the single outfit I was wearing. I had even lost the key to the safe deposit box in Chicago that held my stock certificates. I had a few dollars pinned in the hem of my skirt as well as a pretty gold necklace with a diamond pendant that I could pawn for cash and easily transform that into my previous fortune with a day at the races, but I was truly sad about the loss of my clothes, including the purple dress.

I mourned for the better part of the night before mentally slapping myself in the face. _Those are only CLOTHES_, I told myself, _you have much more important things in life_. I thought of the face, the kind, golden-eyed face rather than the care-worn red eyed face in my vision. I would find him, and I vowed that once I did, I would never put as much stock in clothing again. Of course I would keep BUYING clothing, it would be silly not to, and of course I would keep buying the very best clothing. I simply would never again put as much sentiment into it. Besides, if you only wear things once, you have to buy more. I smiled.

***

I crept into Pittsburgh on foot three days later. I was still rattled by my close call with the police so I avoided the smaller towns I passed until I reached the anonymity of the city. I needed a car, to replenish my cash and to shop for a few outfits. Unfortunately replenishing the cash would take a bit of time, as horse racing was still illegal in Pennsylvania. There was a new auto race track being built, but it wasn't scheduled to open until 1948.

I could simply steal a car and drive on, but I would need cash to refuel it, and the small amount I had wouldn't get me very far. As I walked the predawn streets, contemplating my options, I was distracted by a truck dropping off a pile of papers at a nearby news stand. I crossed the street to get a paper, perhaps there was a Steelers game later on I could bet on, though I admit I knew very little about sports and their seasons, I preferred to bet my money on quick returns, like 2 minute horse races, or a spin of the roulette wheel. As I bent to pick up a copy something on the magazine rack caught my eye. It was the May edition of Harper's Bazaar… the magazine that, along with Vogue, had quickly become my bible in my new found love for fashion. I had neglected to pick up a copy in my intense search for the man in my vision, and I plucked a copy off the rack in addition to the newspaper. I handed the newsboy a dollar, telling him to keep the change, and headed off in search of a bookie.

It was early still, so once I located an appropriate bookie, who hid out in the back of a dingy little pawn shop, I passed the time by walking out by the rivers, pausing on one of the many bridges. Pittsburgh, despite the gray iron of the buildings and the choking smoke from the steel mills was located in a beautiful spot. I found that the gentle bend of the rivers as they came to join together and the natural crags of the surrounding mountains brought a pleasing contrast to the sharp lines and heavy weight of the mills, especially in the soft morning light.

I finally settled myself on a bench and opened the paper. The Steelers weren't playing, football apparently is only played in the fall, but the Pittsburgh Pirates Baseball team was scheduled for a game that afternoon. It was a home game, against the St. Louis Cardinals, by all accounts a much stronger team. The Pirates were on a losing streak, and according to the paper they would need a miracle to win. However, a quick vision revealed a 3-0 win for the Pirates.

At about 10 o'clock I stepped into the bookmaker's shop, pretending to look at the dust-covered items that were his front. After a few minutes a man slipped out of the back room, giving me a furtive glance before ducking out the door. He was followed seconds later by a large man with a pencil shoved behind his ear. His eyes narrowed on spotting me.

"Excuse me sir, are you the man that takes money for bets?" I purposely lowered and roughened my voice. I knew my dress was too fine for the role I was trying to play, but hoped he wouldn't look past the dirt and smudges I'd accumulated in escaping from the car and spending three days in the woods.

"Betting's illegal here, miss. Even a little thing like yourself should know that." His voice was deep and gruff.

"I'm sorry sir, but my husband, he's real sick see… and we just don't have money for the doctor. My husband loves baseball and last night he had a dream that the Pirates are going to win today. He woke up this morning, looking like death warmed over and he reached under the mattress and he pulled out what little money we have left." I held out the wad of cash and waved it, the bookies eyes grew sharp at the sight. I continued with my story, "'Alice,' he says, 'you go down to Mr. Grove at Grove's pawn and you put every penny of this money on the Pirates to win, three zip.' 'three zip?' I says. 'three zip,' he tells me. 'The good Lord sent me a vision last night to give us a way out of this mess. Now get on down there now.' So here I am, sir."

"Alice? You wouldn't be Jason Hopper's wife would you?" He asked, still suspicious. I checked my vision of his reaction before nodding. "I haven't seen him in an age, didn't realize he was sick." His eyes grew sly. "Well, I suppose I can do something to help you out, seeing as how Jason is an old… friend." He rubbed his hands together. "Though I have to warn you, the odds aren't really in your favor, the Pirates being the home town team, and all."

"Why Mr. Grove, I know that can't be true. It said in the paper just this morning that the Pirates were expected to lose." I waved the paper at him. "My Jason, he told me to make sure I go with you into your back room so I can see the odds myself." The big man grunted and narrowed his eyes again, but he led me to the back door. The office was extremely cramped, really no more than a closet, filled with a desk piled with papers. A board on the wall behind the desk listed the odds for the various events one could bet on. The Pirates-Cardinals game for today was down at 10 to 1 in favor of the Cardinals. Not the worst odds I'd ever bet on, but not quite enough. Betting on the exact outcome would raise the odds significantly. I haggled with the man some, and then finally came to an agreement of a 40 to 1 payout for the Pirates 3, Cardinals 0 outcome. I wasn't normally so blatant, but I was a bit desperate. Mr. Grove was a bit smug as I left the shop, convinced that I would lose.

The game wasn't until the afternoon, but I went ahead to the ballpark and bought a ticket. I had never been to a baseball game before, and figured I might as well enjoy the spectacle.

It was May 10th, a Saturday. I thought about the vision of the diner and decided it must have been a weekday, as there were so few patrons. I sighed. I would get there soon enough. I opened up my Harper's Bazaar and began scanning through it. There was a translation of a short story by the Russian author Vladimir Nabokov called Spring in Fialta, which I enjoyed, but when I flipped the page the world stood still. It was a full page photograph of a woman a quiet Parisian street, her white jacket contrasting sharply with her dark full skirt and black gloves, a white bowl shaped hat completed the outfit. The jacket was tapered in almost severely at the waist but flared out at the hips, an alluring v of black from the skirt visible from where it opened in the front. But the skirt! The skirt! It was long, down to her calves- revealing only the thin turn of her ankles and so full as to be obscene! The amount of fabric that must have gone into that one skirt! It boggled the mind! Throughout the War, fabric was rationed, styles were simple and streamline to minimize waste and had remained so even as rationing was slowly letting up. But this skirt was an affront to that entire fashion sensibility! It was a breath of fresh air! I devoured the article. The entire outfit was the work of a Frenchman named Christian Dior, who had just opened a fashion house outside of Paris. He debuted his line in February in Europe and was taking the world by storm. The Editor of Harper's Bazaar, Carmel Snow, closed the article by saying "It's quite a revelation, dear Christian. Your dresses have such a New Look."

A "New Look" indeed!!! I noticed a note at the end of the article saying that Mr. Dior would be coming to New York on May 12 for a show at the Plaza Hotel, the same location of the yearly "Press Week" which showcased American fashion designers for the press. I did some quick calculating in my head. If I stole a car tonight after gathering my winnings, I could easily be in New York for the show, and then back to Philadelphia the next day. It would still be May, right? I was paralyzed by indecision. There was no way I would miss my opportunity to find my other half, the ragged hole in my soul burned at the thought. But at the same time…

I stayed undecided through the whole game, not noticing a single pitch or play. Finally I realized I could test my decision. I thought, _I'm going to go see this New Look for myself!_ Then searched for the vision. It was completely unchanged. I sighed in relief. I would go, see the show, and return to wait on the stool at the bar until he came through the door. I leapt to my feet, startling the people around me who had been waiting breathlessly as the pitcher wound up. I glanced at the scoreboard- it was 3-0, in favor of the Pirates, and the Cardinals were at bat with two outs, two strikes. I didn't wait for the end, I scrambled over the knees and feet of the people on the row, ignoring their curses. I did hear the smack of the ball against a glove, and the woosh of the bat passing through the air followed by the umpire's yell: "Yerrrrrr Out!" but I didn't stop.

Mr. Groves wanted to hassle me about my miracle win, but I had fashion on the brain, and I glared at him. He gulped and backed down, handing over the money. I had still planned on stealing a car, but then decided to take a bus. My visions showed that the weather would remain cloudy for the next few days, as it had that day, so I would be safe. I didn't like taking public transportation. Too many bodies with too little fresh air to diffuse the scent, but this way I could read and re-read the magazine and focus on my vision without worrying about running off the road or attracting unwanted attention. I purchased a ticket at the bus terminal and stepped on board, choosing a seat towards the back. I cracked a window and glared at anyone foolish enough to think about sitting near me, and was left alone.

Once I arrived in New York late on Sunday I tried to look up Sonya, but she had apparently moved on. I spent some money on a decent hotel room so I could bathe and I went to Macy's to purchase a new dress for the show. It was not couture, but it would do. For now.

I paced my room, quivering in excitement, waiting for the show to start. I arrived quiet early and easily talked my way in, despite my lack of press or fashion credentials. Madame Mimi was there, of course, and I carefully avoided her, but I did see her in deep conversation with Eleanor Lambert, the "Empress of Seventh Avenue" and the grand dame of Press Week. I found a seat a little ways away from them, in the second row, which bothered me because I wouldn't be able to see as clearly over the heads of the people in front of me, but I didn't want to be noticed. As the room filled up I focused on not breathing so as to not be overwhelmed by the scent of the tightly packed humans. This was worse than the bus, but worth it for the show.

"Is this seat taken?" A soft masculine voice spoke in my ear, the French accent lifting up the end of his words. I looked up at a well dressed but unassuming man, in his early 40's, and shook my head, smiling at him. "Merci." He said, softly again. Without vampire hearing it would have been hard to hear him over the buzz of the crowd. As he sat a man stepped out from behind the curtain set at the end of the ballroom.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, but mostly Ladies," he said, to laughter from the audience, his voice was nasal and his accent very, very French. "I am pleased to present… The New Look!" He gestured broadly, and a line of models appeared.

"Is that Monsieur Dior?" I asked the man next to me.

"Non, that is Jacques Rouett, the manager. He is a much better show man than Monsieur Dior." He whispered back. But then the models started walking down the catwalk, and everything else left my mind. I was entranced by the shape, the use of fabric, the simple colors. It was all breathtaking.

When it was all over I clapped and clapped along with the rest of the crowd. If I could, I would have had tears running down my face.

"Did the clothes move you, ma cherie?" the man next to me asked.

"Oh yes!" I replied.

"Why?"

That simple question unlocked the floodgates. I poured out my feelings on cut and color, I waxed eloquent on the use of fabrics and stitching, and I espoused the virtues of design and fit. I spoke at length on how it was time for the old to be put away in favor of new, post-war designs. I was quivering in my passion, and the man gave me a broad smile in return.

"I am glad you like my clothes so much, Cherie, we are very much of the same mind."

Wait... What?

"Excuse me, sir, are YOU Christian Dior?" I was shocked… not something that happens often to a psychic vampire. He wasn't exactly how I pictured him. I guess I'd expected someone more like Monsieur Rouett, young, thin, sharp and outgoing, not this kind gentlemanly man beside me.

"Oui, but I would ask that you not say it so loudly, I am not one for the spotlight and would not like to draw attention to myself. I would prefer for the focus to be on the clothes, and not the man." He smiled again. "I have to go meet with several fashion editors and socialites now, but would you mind meeting me here tomorrow? Rouett says the American market is ripe for plucking, and has been encouraging me to find an assistant to start our empire here. I would like to discuss making you that assistant."

I gulped, at a loss for words for the first time. Christian Dior was a God, despite the fact his fashion house only opened just a few months before. He wanted ME to work for him? The fluttering in my stomach matched the wobbling of my knees.

But what about my vision?! I couldn't abandon that! He smiled at my obvious shock and confusion. "No decisions now." He patted my cheek. "Oh! But you are freezing! Go outside into the warm May sunshine and think about it. Come to me tomorrow at 10 am sharp, we will meet in the lobby, and discuss more. What is your name, by the way?"

"Alice… Alice, uh, Nuveau." I had learned a bit of French from all the fashion magazines, and it was the first thing that popped into my head.

He laughed. "Well, my 'New' Alice, I will see you tomorrow. Au revoir." He walked away. I stared after him and then stumbled outside. It was warm, but still not sunny, and I headed directly into the park, to clear my head.

On the one hand was the man in Philadelphia, the other half of my soul, the face that was the first thing I saw in this existence of mine, and still saw every day, every second, since.

On the other was my absolute dream job… if I could sleep and dream.

Why could I not have them both? Was fate so cruel to offer this to me now that I was so close to finding my soulmate? Was I being tested?

I sought out the vision again, comforted by the fact it still remained unchanged. My wavering decision had not altered the outcome… yet.

I sat in the park all night, wrestling with my decision. There was something I was missing, I was sure of it.

As dawn broke over the skyline, I pulled up the vision for the hundredth time that night, becoming more certain that there was something I just wasn't seeing.

Everything was the same: the coffee in the pot, the fly on the wall, the waitress's nametag, "Doris." I watched myself fidget, watched him pause outside on the street corner. I glanced around, frantic. The vision always ended with me meeting him, I couldn't make it go any farther, and I still hadn't figured out what I was missing. There was the clock on the wall, the cook at the griddle, the patrons at the counter, the calendar by the register.

The calendar by the register.

I had noticed that it said "May" before, but I hadn't noticed the date. As the vision faded out I saw the smaller type at the bottom of the page. The year: 1948.

A wave of relief washed over me as well as a wave of sadness. I had a whole other year to wait to heal the hole inside of me? To meet the man behind the face that haunted my every thought for the first time? But… I also had a whole year to work for Monsieur Dior! I clapped my hands together in glee. At least if I had a year before I could find Him, I could spend it immersed up to my eyeballs in the greatest fashion of the era!

I skipped up out of the park, startling a mounted police officer, and back to the Plaza. I paused before entering. I was much too early, and besides, I was still wearing the same dress as yesterday.

I remembered my promise to myself. Well, I hadn't found Him yet, but I could go ahead and hold up my end of the bargain… no reason to wear the same clothes twice!

I went back to Macy's, as I was still on a budget and couldn't purchase the couture I was dying to wear until I hit the track. I was bouncing on the balls of my feet as they finally unlocked the front doors and I darted inside and up to the fine woman's fashion. I was disappointed with my choices after seeing the marvelous dresses in the show the day before, but I did manage to pull something together I thought would work. The shopgirl looked a bit scandalized by my selections, but she didn't say a word as she wrapped up my purchases. I snatched the bag out of her hands and flew down to the ladies' room on the ground floor. No one was there yet due to the early hour, so I changed in the lounge area. I touched up my makeup and fluffed my hair. It was still unfashionably short, but I would just have to act edgy and snobby, and I could get away with anything.

I put the old dress in the bag, and handed it to a woman outside the store asking for charity for some orphanage. I wasn't sure what the orphans would do with a fashionable dress from Macy's, but I was sure they'd figure something out.

I presented myself in the lobby of the Plaza Hotel at 10 am sharp. Monsieurs Dior and Rouett stepped out of the elevator at the same time. Christian smiled at me, and beckoned me over.

"Alice, I would like to introduce you to Monsieur Jacques Rouett, my business manager. Jacques, this is Alice Nuveau." He offered his hand and I took it, nervous he would comment about my cold touch. He didn't say a thing, even when he touched his lips to my cold, hard skin and muttered, "Enchanté."

We got right to business. They asked my background and I admitted little except great enthusiasm and a love for fine fashion. Christian vouched for my good fashion sense. I mentioned my time working in the clothing mill during the war, which surprised them, but Rouett thought that was a good thing for me to have that sort of experience with the mass production side of the industry. I was nervous of Rouett at first; he was quite different from Christian, who was soft spoken with an artistic temperament. Jacques Rouett was the consummate business man, sharp and no nonsense. But he clearly cared for Christian and supported him in his decisions.

I realized I'd been calling him Christian in my head and even in conversation since he emerged from the elevator, though he had never corrected me. I felt like we were already very old friends.

They asked when I would be ready to leave New York, and I told them, "Immediately. I can honestly say there is nothing holding me here."

"Excellent!" Christian said. "You will accompany us back to Paris and learn that end of the business; once you are ready we will send you back to America to represent us here!" I grinned in response.

"There is one thing," Rouett said, "Do you speak French? It will be difficult for you at House Dior if you do not."

"No, but I think you'll find, my dear Jacques, that I am an extremely quick study!" I lifted my nose, and winked at Christian, who burst into delighted laughter. Jacques raised an eyebrow, but his lips lifted in a small smile as well.

We were to leave the next day, and they sent me off to "pack and say your farewells." As I didn't have much of either to do, I went instead back to Macy's to purchase a few more clothes and some luggage, after a detour to the racetrack to replenish my dwindling cash flow. I loved the track, with its anonymous betting. So long as I placed my bets at different windows, no one noticed I was winning big at every race. With each race lasting as little as 2 minutes, with only 15 minutes between races, it was quick earnings as well. I never got near the paddock, the one time I did, the horses, already high strung with the excitement of the race, all began bucking and squealing, throwing riders and trampling handlers. So I kept to the stands and enjoyed people watching instead.

The next morning I met the two Frenchmen and their gaggle of leggy models at the airport.

"Have you ever been on a plane before?" Christian asked me.

"No." I told him. I was a bit apprehensive about it – being stuck in a small space with so many humans for so many hours. It would be worse than the bus since there was no way to open a window, and besides, I would be expected to make small talk with my new employer.

I had hunted the night before, but as I couldn't take the time to get very far out of town, I was only able to catch a single scrawny deer. I hoped it would be enough.

Christian saw the nerves in my eyes. "Not to worry, ma Cherie. It is quite safe. Though I admit I too get butterflies in my stomach every time we take off."

Luckily once we were on board and in the air I was mostly left alone. They seemed to respect my "fear of flying" and no one got too close to see I wasn't breathing very much. I passed the time by replaying the vision in my head, comforting myself with the fact that it wasn't changing, even though I was headed thousands of miles from Philadelphia. I also listened to the models chattering in French. My sharp ears and vampire memory made learning the language quite easy. I made a mental note to not become too good too quickly, as I didn't want to arouse suspicion.

We finally landed in Paris, and I took a deep breath of European air for the first time. I was disappointed that it didn't smell all that different from New York air. In fact, it probably smelled just a bit worse.

Paris was still in shambles after the years of occupation, but the proud French were staunchly rebuilding their capital. Christian pointed out the sights to me as we rode through the streets in the motor car that met us at the airport. The models had headed off on their own, back to their own lives, with lots of air kisses and calls of "Au Revoir!" Jacques, Christian and I headed to the House of Dior.

I wasn't entirely sure what to expect when I arrived at the step of the House that had made such a name for itself in a few short months. The House itself was a modest mansion on Avenue Montaigne, decorated in Christian's signature grays and white. "We have 85 employees." Jacques explained to me, "mostly seamstresses, though there are a few shopgirls at the front of the house, and several accountants. We may be new, but we plan to be a powerhouse, and put Paris back on the map of fashion! I have big plans for the name of Dior," he confided, "while we don't want to lose the exclusivity of the name, both Christian and I want to reach as many people as possible. Of course, Christian wants to do it to spread good taste in clothing to the world, and I want to do it to bring in the revenue!" He laughed at his joke. I laughed along with him, for though I was more on Christian's side of the line – I thought every woman deserved to be clothed in the New Look – I could tell that Jacques cared deeply about him, and his business, and took great pride in the successes.

My role was to stick close to Christian over the next few months. I reveled in the opportunity. I learned so much from him- how to cut fabric so that it draped just so when stitched, how to match textures, how to sew a seam so it was completely hidden. We had come back from New York with a mountain of orders, and it felt like more came in every day. Christian would walk the floor in the morning, overseeing the seamstresses, offering a comment or kind word here or there. The seamstresses were managed by one of Christian's 'muses': Marguerite Carré, a woman with an iron backbone. Clients often came to the house, but he never waited on them himself, preferring his privacy and to leave that to Suzanne Luling, the sales director and her shop girls. In the afternoons he would retreat to his design studio and work on sketches for the new line. There would be a big show in the fall, followed by a series of private shows. We had even been contracted by the King of England to do a private show for several of the royals in London, though not the princesses, as Christian's designs were deemed too controversial in a land where rationing was still in place for two young fashion plates to wear.

I loved watching him sketch. Every so often he would ask for my advice on a cut or a line, and it thrilled me to answer him with my opinion. He encouraged me to make my own sketches and designs, and even let me borrow cloth and a seamstress to make a few of them. He critiqued them carefully and honestly, and praised me as my skill grew over time. My designs were considered "edgy" and a lot more daring than Christian's. I'll admit I cheated, using my visions to see trends several years ahead to influence my style. I began exclusively wearing my own creations, to his amusement.

Hunting was a bit of a problem. Paris was even more of a sprawling city than New York, and it was very difficult to get far enough away to find game, and even then it was very small. Every week I would take my one day off to head out to the countryside to catch rabbits. They were very unappealing. The occasional fox was a treat, but it was a rarity, and I never really felt satisfied. It was very tempting to go back to feeding on humans, but I resisted.

I also learned some of Jacques side of the enterprise: the accounting and the expansion of the business. He said I was a natural math whiz, and would often challenge me to complex calculations and problems. At first I cheated and used my visions to give me the answers, but soon began to enjoy the mental challenge and learned quite a bit of higher math along the way. The other part, the expansion of the business, was fascinating as well. Jacques was determined to put the name of Dior into every household, and was very savvy about doing so. I watched as he and Christian hammered out an extremely lucrative deal with an American company to market Dior brand silk stockings that would grace the shelves of department stores across the country.

"This is just the first step into the American Market." Jacques told me. The next was to offer more products and eventually open a boutique in downtown Manhattan that I was to oversee. I was excited for the opportunity, but sad to leave my new friends.

Jacques was also obsessed with the idea of a perfume for the American market. He ranted about Chanel and Jean Patou and their respective perfumes, claiming we could make something far more appealing. What fragrance, though, went unanswered.

One day, while we were relaxing in Jacques office after work he brought up the idea of the perfume again. "If only we could find something appealing, and classic. Like the perfume you wear, Alice."

"Yes, that would be lovely." Christian agreed

"But, I don't wear a perfume," I told them, confused.

"You don't?" Suzanne asked, surprised. "You always smell so nice, like roses and… something else."

"Gardenias. Roses and gardenias with a hint of sage for depth and other green florals for balance." Christian said, inhaling with his eyes closed. "My dear, if that is your natural scent, you are the most lucky woman in the world." If I could blush, I would have. I knew it was simply my natural vampire allure, designed to attract humans to me, but as he described it, it did sound good.

"Would you mind if we copied your personal scent?" Jacques asked, with a smile. "We could call it Alice!"

"Oh no," I cried. "No one would buy it. Alice is such a plain name! Besides, don't you want to keep the Dior name on it?" I deflected.

"Hmmmm… I would still like to name it after you. How about 'Miss Dior'?" Christian asked the group.

"It's perfect!" Jacques was enthusiastic. "I will get the chemists on it right away, we should have samples for you to test next week!" And that was that.

Finally it was time for me to return to the US and take up the mantle of the Dior name in America. I was very sad, but at the same time eager to get back close to Pennsylvania. I bid Jacques and Suzanne a fond "Adieu" and gave Christian a big hug. He hugged me back, tears in his eyes. "Farewell my New Alice. You will do extremely well, I am sure. You are made for bigger and better things in this life, when you find them, do not worry about leaving us behind, we will do fine without you, but even as now, we will miss you." And with that, he pushed me off towards the plane. I turned for one final wave, but the three of them were gone, lost in the crowd.

It was going to be hard working in New York without running across Madame Mimi, but I wore a lot more makeup now, and hoped she wouldn't recognize me, or at least think I looked a bit older. Actually I turned out to be so busy the few times I did see her I was running this way and that. Thank goodness for vampire speed and sleepless nights. Jacques had selected a storefront on Fifth avenue, but the shop itself needed extensive remodeling to suit a fine fashion house from Paris. I oversaw that while holding mini shows for discerning clients with the samples I brought with me from the House, and buzzing back and forth to the West Coast to take orders from Hollywood starlets. As the shop neared completion I hired and trained a slew of new shop girls, including an extremely capable girl who I groomed to be my eventual replacement. We opened our doors in late November, just in time for the Christmas rush.

Jacques remained busy signing new deals all over the place, and as their US representative I had to be on hand whenever one of the new enterprises opened up. I bounced from Chicago, where Marshal Field had exclusive rights to several designs and their own small army of seamstresses to make them up to order for top clients, to shows in California. I couldn't believe that this was all happening within the first year of the House of Dior opening its doors, it had to have been setting records. And it would only get bigger, my visions were firm on that. As the months, then weeks, and now days wore down to May my ragged hole began paining me more and more, and the demon on my back was whipping me to make all haste to Philadelphia.

I wrote Christian a long letter, telling him that I had learned so much from him, and was so grateful to him, but, as he had seemed to understand during our farewell in Paris, the time had come for me to move on. I talked with Jacques briefly on the phone, and though he wished me well, I could sense he was a bit cool towards me for "jumping ship." My replacement was well trained, however, and I knew the House would succeed without me.

***

Finally, on May first, 1948, I took my first step into Suzie's Diner. It was, of course, exactly the same as in my vision. I sat on the bar stool, taking in the sights and smells, staring in amazement at the patrons until they looked away, discomfited by my scrutiny. They weren't the right patrons, yet, but I was willing to wait.

Wait I did.

Every day I showed up, hopped up on my barstool, ordered a cup of coffee which I never touched (Doris would throw me out if I didn't order something), and waited. I wore the same outfit every day, breaking my "never wear anything twice" rule, though I did replace the individual pieces with regularity.

I waited for two weeks before, finally, the stars came together. Eddie, the cook from my vision was working that morning, after the morning rush there was only three other customers at the counter. At 10:15 one of them slapped a bill on the table, nodded to Doris and the other patrons, and headed out. The weather outside was drizzly, with the threat of real rain heavy in the air. Sudden movement from the street caught my eye, and I clutched my hands in anticipation. If my heart could beat, it would be pounding out of my chest. He paused on the street corner, and I drunk him in, his bearing: proud and noble, his face and body picture perfect. He deliberated for a second, looking at the gloomy sky, before turning to the diner. He stepped inside, shaking fine drops from his halo of golden hair. I popped off my stool and walked towards him, reminding myself over and over not to run.

"I've been waiting for you for a long time." I said and grinned broadly, he looked startled and blinked several times.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" He asked. Oh be still my cold dead heart. He had a rich , deep, melodious voice that ignited my soul and a Texas drawl that melted my knees. Up close I could see the scars that marked every visible inch of his skin, something I had not noticed in either my visions or the face that floated in my mind. But to me they did not detract from his perfection. He was undeniably the right one, and my soul was singing to me. "I feel like I know you." He whispered. I reached out a hand and he automatically reached out his to take it, meeting me half way. It was like every volt produced by the Hoover dam ran through me at his touch.

When I could finally find my voice I spoke up: "Come, I want to start our forever right now. We've wasted too much of our lives apart already. I'm Alice, by the way."

"Jasper." he said in return, his eyes not leaving my face.

I didn't let go of his hand as I led him out of the diner into the rain. As the door swung closed behind us I distinctly heard Doris sigh- the happy sigh of a woman watching young love bloom for the first time.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's Note:

_Please don't kill me! Next chapter will be ALL Jasper and Alice, I swear!_

_I got all the information on Lobotomies from Wikipedia, look there for primary sources. Freeman was a real person who started out using surgery, but in the 1940s developed new "non-surgical" techniques for performing lobotomies with an ice pick he took from his kitchen. The guy who did the first lobotomies in the early 1930's, Antonio Moniz, won a Nobel Prize for his work. It wasn't until the late 1940's that people began to question turning patients into zombies as a "treatment". Until that time it was used to treat any manner of psychological problems, including teenage "moodiness" and "youthful defiance"… yikes!!_

_The procedure damages or even destroys the frontal lobe, the part of the brain that controls personality, facial expressions, higher motor functions and the ability to use language. In many cases a lobotomy merely altered the patient's personality, but in many others it left them without any personality at all, along with the loss of speech, motor control and the ability to take care of themselves, they were complete blank slates._

_Information on Christian Dior came from many sources, but the best by far was from the Design Museum (link on profile). He opened The House of Dior and held his first show in February 1947. Despite some outrage, the New Look, as it was known, made Dior a fixture in the fashion world. As far as I know, he didn't come to the US for a show that May, as he does in my story, but he did do several shows around Europe, including a private show for the Royal Family in England, and in the fall famous Americans flocked to Paris to see his new line. _

_The famous "Fashion Week" in NYC started in 1943 as "Press Week" to garner attention for American designers._


	5. The End and The Beginning

Chapter 5: The End and the Beginning

**A/N: **

**All recognizable characters are the sole property of Stephenie Meyer, no copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

Record of Committal to Mississippi State Asylum

Date: September 1, 1939

Case #: 534 X-237

Subject: Mary Alice Brandon

Date of Birth: March 20, 1921

Consulting Doctor: Dr. Stephen Patton

Notes:

Miss Brandon's lobotomy was an unequivocal success. She no longer suffers from episodes. She now only shows anxiety when separated from Mr. Jones the Albino orderly, who has taken responsibility as her primary caretaker. I am extremely pleased with the results.

As one of the side effects of the operation, Miss Brandon has lost some motor function and must be fed, clothed and bathed. She retains some ability to speak, though it seems difficult for her. Dr. Freeman assures me that this is a common side effect and given time she may regain some if not all of her former motility and speech. She exhibits complete short and long term memory loss, although she does seem to recognize certain people, such as the aforementioned Mr. Jones. She has not show marked improvement over the last six months; however I believe we may soon reach a turning point in her recuperation.

I have great faith in this technique and propose to the committee that this Asylum should make efforts to raise money so that the operation may be performed on other unfortunate patients here for whom conventional treatments do not work. Mrs. Patton and myself will be hosting a charity dinner in one month, with Miss Brandon as our guest of Honor. I have asked Mr. Jones to make an extra effort in developing her motor skills so that she may eat at the table with us.

Despite her calm demeanor, her family has informed the State that they do not wish to regain custody of the girl. They have also asked for us to keep her identity a secret, as they do not wish the stigma of a mentally ill family member, even one who was so miraculously cured of her affliction.

Due to her being signed over for full custody of the State, Miss Brandon is now a permanent resident of this Asylum. I will continue to provide yearly updates to the committee as to her progress. It remains my belief that she will recover and can be made of great use to society and the Asylum as proof positive of the benefits of this miraculous treatment as well as a useful member of our janitorial staff.

Signed,

Dr. Stephen Patton.

**ATTACHED: note from Mr. Jones, orderly.**

_August 5, 1939._

_Dear Honerable sirs,_

_I wish to bring to your attention the sad case of Mary Alice Brandon. This was a lively, smart, wonderful girl who has been reduced to the mental capacity of an infant by the cruel experiment performed on her. Dr. Patton says she will recover some of her ability to speak and care for herself, but I haven't seen a change since the sad day they brought her back from the hospital with her head shaved and wrapped in bandages, a dead look in her eyes._

_Dr. Patton also claims that the operation cured her of her visions but I want it to be known that I do not believe this is the case. As her constant caretaker I have seen when the tell-tale signs of a vision come over her- the stillness in her body and the glazing of her eyes, she simply isn't able to show the outbursts or tell her stories the way she used to._

_I bring this to your honors' attention because I shudder to think of this cruel torture being performed on other innocent people like Mary Alice. I know I am a lowly orderly, but I know what I've seen, and I tell you sirs it does not sit well with me._

_Your servant,_

_Donatello Jones, orderly_

* * *

**May 1948 **

I barely noticed my surroundings as I led him out of the diner, up the street and into the hotel. I didn't respond to the kindly man behind the reception desk when he handed me the key to my room and said "So, yer fine young man finally arrived, has he now?" His thick accent usually elicited a smile and a quip from me, but not today. The clang of the elevator gate, the squeaking of the reels and counter weights, and the bells announcing the floors were all a muffled backdrop. I felt like I was floating a foot off the ground. The only thing I could see was his face, the only thing I could hear were his soft steps and the swish of his ill-fitting clothes as he moved, the only thing I could smell was his scent, and the only thing I could feel was the electricity of his hand in mine.

I drew him to the center of my room and turned, reaching for his other hand. He met me half way again, and we stood like that, about two feet apart with our hands linked, staring into each other's eyes for hours. Or was it minutes? I studied the face that had haunted me ever since I could remember, marred by the red tinge to his eyes, black now in hunger. Dark purple stains under his eyes and hollow cheeks were further testament to his need to feed. Yet he stood, calmly, showing no agitation, no desire to let go of my hands to hunt. He drank me in as if looking at me was the only sustenance he needed to survive a hundred thousand years.

Neither of us spoke, lost in the spell of the others eyes. We could have stood like that for days, we could be standing there still, but were interrupted by a knock on the door and a muffled call of "housekeeping!" Instantly he swung around, throwing me behind him as he crouched and growled, facing the door. I couldn't help it. I laughed.

"Don't eat her, she's just bringing clean towels!" I pushed past him towards the door. He reached for my wrist, to stop me. I grinned at him, telling him with my eyes that it was all right. He looked slightly startled, actually dazzled would be a more appropriate description for the star-struck look in his eyes, but he let my hand slip through his long fingers as I went to the door. As I neared the door I had a sudden vision of the disaster that would occur if I let the housekeeper in the room, her hot blood in close quarters too much for the starving vampire behind me.

Instead of opening the door wide, I slipped into the hallway, startling the woman. I held my finger to my lips. "My husband has just arrived and is napping after his long journey." I spoke in a low voice. "I don't want to disturb him." My stomach clinched at my use of "husband" but she smiled and nodded in understanding, and handed me a stack of fluffy towels.

"Put the "do not disturb" sign on the door while you are here, I'll come by later to collect the dirty linens when you are out." She whispered back. I smiled and thanked her, watching as she rolled her cart down the hall before slipping back into the room.

He was standing just inside the door, and I walked right into his chest. He caught both me, and the towels, before I could bounce off. Holding me close with one arm, he dropped the towels in the corner with the other, and carefully pushed the door to. I was a good foot, make that a foot and a half, shorter than him, but it didn't seem to matter in the slightest. He leaned down and pressed his lips to the top of my head. "Thank you" he murmured. I tilted my head back to look him in the eye again, and snaked my arms around his now accessible neck.

He straightened up, in surprise, but I didn't loosen my grip and was lifted off my feet. He seemed to freeze momentarily, a strange look in his eyes, but I determinedly hitched my legs up on his hips and he slowly relaxed and put his arms back around me, helping support my weight. As he carried me back in the room stopping in the center I was struck by a powerful vision. I couldn't help it, my grin spread even wider as I came back to the present. He was studying my face, a concerned and confused look at my blank stare during the vision relaxing away to an amused smile as I grinned at him.

"So, a husband? Is that what I am?" He teased gently.

"You will be." I told him seriously, to which he quirked an eyebrow. The vision was still at the forefront of my mind: me in an utterly unique white dress and him in a formal officer's uniform in Confederate grey. Flowers, friends and a priest completed the scene.

"You are so… happy." He whispered in wonder.

"Of course!" I laughed quietly. "Don't you feel it? What was missing before? It's filled now!" His eyes grew distant and he nodded and hugged me close. I relaxed into his chest, squeezing my arms in response.

Now that we had broken the silence, I couldn't stay quiet for long. "Tell me!"

"Tell you what?"

"Everything! And then I'll tell you everything. Although I don't have much to tell." He chuckled and moved us to the bed. As a vampire, he could have stood there forever holding me and never moving a muscle, but as he leaned back against the headboard and tucked me into his side I decided this was much better for talking.

"Where should I begin?" He asked me.

"Why don't you start with your name?"

He laughed, an open joyous sound that made my still heart twitch. "Jasper Whitlock, at your service, ma'am." I loved the sound of his name: the sigh and purr of his first name, the staccato precision of the second. I rolled it around my mouth. A second name meant he had a history, a HUMAN history. With family, parents, and siblings. And the pride with which he said "Whitlock" indicated that it was a good history, with good memories, regardless of what happened since he became a vampire. I didn't have any of those things. I suddenly felt a bit sad. He tensed and held me a bit tighter. "What's wrong?"

I looked at him in surprise. "How did you know something was wrong?"

"I have… a… Talent, I guess you'd call it. I can sense the emotions of those around me, vampire or human." Wow. A talent. Like me! My spirits lifted momentarily and he chuckled. "For instance you suddenly became happy hearing that. Why is that? Most of the vampires I've met are scared when they learn that, they think I can read their minds or something."

"I'm not most vampires." I told him softly, reaching up to touch his face.

"No, clearly you are not. For starters I have rarely felt love from another vampire before, and you have it in spades. And then there's your eyes." He brushed a thumb over one of my lids. "I have so many questions…" he trailed off.

"We have eternity… ask away." I told him, reveling in his touch.

He chuckled again. "Well, first, I'd like to know your name. Seeing as how you are going to be my wife and all." He teased gently.

I laughed in return. "It's Alice. Just… Alice." I lowered my eyes as I felt the melancholy sweep over me again but it was quickly followed by wave of calm and happiness. I looked up in surprise.

"Did I mention I can manipulate emotions too?" He asked, a bit nervously, I thought. I could see how that would be a scary thing, but my talent was stronger, and I was confident in my visions of our perfect happiness.

"I have a… talent… too. I can see the future. So, the way I see it, your talent is a blessing! I will never actually be surprised when you buy me a gift… the engagement ring is lovely, by the way… but you can manipulate my emotions so I can FEEL surprised anyway!" He looked a little concerned at the mention of an engagement ring, but he seemed to take my announcement of clairvoyance in stride. "Don't worry." I patted his hand, "You don't have to get me the ring for a while yet… you'll know it when you see it." He gulped, and I smiled smugly as I snuggled back down in his embrace.

"You are a mysterious creature, Alice Just Alice." He spoke in wonder and kissed the top of my head. I sighed in happiness and turned my face so my cheek lay against his chest.

"Tell me about your family… your human family." He was still for a moment, and I was almost afraid that he wouldn't talk. But then he did. He told me about growing up in Texas, and his family. He told me about going off to war, and about rising up in the ranks. He told me about Maria, the one who changed him. Even though I could tell he was trying to block it, I could feel the anger and revulsion rolling off him when he spoke about the vampire wars, and the many fights that brought him his scars. I felt his wistfulness and pleasure when he talked about Peter and Charlotte. He told me about how feeding on humans had become so distasteful to him, since he could feel their terror and pain when he hunted them, but that he was still drawn to attack, nearly every time he came across one. He told me how after escaping Maria and leaving Peter and Charlotte he forced himself to keep wandering, staying away from people until the hunger became unbearable. He finished his story with how he had been inexplicably drawn into the heart of Philadelphia, even though he normally avoided such populated centers, and how everything clicked into place when he took my hand.

We were silent for a while, remembering and mulling over everything he said. The telling of his story had taken almost two days, and we never moved from the bed the whole time. He lived such an amazing life as a human, and led such an amazing existence as a vampire. He had been around so long. I had the briefest feeling of self doubt- how could he want me, whose experiences paled in comparison? The feeling was quashed instantly. "Never feel doubt." He growled. "I have never, NEVER, felt this way about anyone. You are perfection." He leaned over, and for the first time, our lips met. No vision could have prepared me for the wonder of that kiss. I thought our hand-holding was electric, this burned with the intensity of the sun. I reached up and twisted my fingers in his hair, pulling him down and deepening the kiss. He suddenly broke free, backing off, gasping for unneeded air. "Alice. I know you want to get married. If we don't stop now…."

"Silly Jasper. The wedding is just a formality. I belong to you and you belong to me. Here. Now." He groaned and returned to the kiss.

***

Several hours later, or was it days? I leaned back against the pillows in utter and complete satisfaction. Now I understood why Sonya pursued all those men. But I didn't need an endless supply of men; I had the perfect man, my Jasper, for all eternity. My clothes were in shreds, but I didn't mind, I was tired of them anyway. His were in shreds too, which was a bit more of a problem. I'd thought to buy him an extra set before hand, but as my visions had not allowed me to see our future past our initial meeting, I didn't realize how many sets of clothes he would need with me around to rip them off! Ah well, it was an excuse to go shopping!

He had been staring up at the ceiling, but he rolled over, propping himself up on one elbow to look down on me, a silly smile on his face. "what are you so happy about? I mean, I KNOW why you are content, but what caused that little spike of happiness just now?"

"Oh, thinking about you." And clothes… but I decided to leave that be for now. He would learn about my obsession soon enough, it was my turn to talk, and tell my story. But first I needed to get him fed. I had started having regular visions of bloody human deaths if I didn't take him out to hunt, and soon. If I could get him out of the city to an area where I knew deer were plentiful, I could see that he would be fine.

"You asked about my eyes before." He nodded. "Well, I think they are golden because I don't drink human blood." He looked shocked. "I hunt animals. They don't taste as nice as humans, but they do the trick. It helps me not think of them as lunch all the time too. I like humans… I like interacting with them, I like the things they do, and the things they make, and having golden eyes rather than red helps me be near them." I paused, then spoke more quietly. "I don't have memories of a human life. Not even memories of the change. I like interacting with humans because I feel like I am somehow replacing something I am missing." He frowned at my sadness, but did not try to erase it; instead he soothed me the old fashioned way, by holding me close in his arms. After a minute I felt better.

"Come." I pulled him out of bed and handed him the clothing hanging in the closet. He looked bemused, but I rolled my eyes and tapped my head, indicating the vision that told me his exact size. These clothes fit much better than the ones he had been wearing before, they accentuated his lean build and his height, though I thought I could do better next time around, now that I actually had him to measure. I was eager to try my hand at designing men's clothes too.

I put on my own clothing and used my visions to determine the best time to exit the hotel without running into anyone. We made it safely and quickly down to my car, and he looked around with interest as we drove off. "I've never been in an automobile before." He told me, his eyes bright and eager. "How fast can it go?" I smirked at him and floored it, the huge engine roaring to life as we hit a straight stretch of highway out of town. We were at my hunting ground in under half an hour.

He hunted gracefully and instinctively, though I could tell by his face the deer didn't taste very good by his standards. "You get used to it." I told him. "Predators, especially big ones, actually taste a lot better, but they are hard to find here on the east coast." He nodded, but seemed to be thinking to himself very hard. I threw a quick glance into the future and saw that, barring a few accidents, he would embrace this diet fully, and I was rewarded with a vision of him with golden eyes- the face that had haunted my mind since the beginning, though this time it was animated and openly laughing.

We cleaned up at a small stream, and then sat on a grassy knoll nearby while I told him my story. It took a lot less time than his, but he still seemed fascinated, and asked many questions.

Eventually we made our way back to Philadelphia, and I packed and checked out of the hotel. We made a quick swing through a department store to stock up on more clothing for Jasper, who was clearly very uncomfortable being inside a building surrounded by humans. We headed out of town, traveling west.

In my mind was the vision of the wedding. Simple, tasteful, and beautiful. But what struck me the most was not the garlands of flowers or even the amazing dress. It was the people. Five gorgeous figures, far outshining the humble priest. Two women, one tall and blond, the other petite and honey-haired, and three men, one monstrously large with charming boyish dimples, one blond like Jasper but a few years older, and one with tousled bronze hair and a wry set to his mouth. Despite their differences in appearances they all had identical golden eyes.

I had found my other half, but was still missing something.

Family.

* * *

_Author's note:_

_This chapter is dedicated to my cousin who is a good foot and a half shorter than her husband, but they are the most wonderful loving couple in the world and have sublime southern accents- a perfect template for Alice and Jasper! _

_I based this chapter on a quote from SM that I found on the lexicon describing Alice and Jasper's relationship:_

"Alice and Jasper's [relationship] is the most…mystical. They just ARE together, and have been from before they even met. They are not complete without each other–and never were. That's what makes them different from the other couples, the "never were." They were already not-whole before they met, waiting for each other."

_I know some people may feel their leap into a relationship went a bit fast, especially regarding Jasper's violent past... but based on that quote i felt they already WERE in a relationship, and the incredible relief they felt in finally finding each other would outweigh any awkwardness or trepidation.  
_

_Next week I'll have regular internet access, so I can figure out what was happening in 1948-1950 for Alice and Jasper to get involved in, rather than sitting in a hotel room the whole time, and we'll get to see a little more of Jasper's past influencing things!  
_

_Please review- it makes my day!_


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